comb

Infinite amount of brushes with mortality and adulthood. I find myself googling 'how to get a good credit score' and 'joint savings account'. I remember when I first moved to London I couldn't imagine the burden of having a mortgage and how it seemed like a far off dream not conceivably possible, nor is it really now in central London but it's something we're striving towards in the next 2-3 years which means we're all grown up, even though Chris did manage to pull off a homicidal hangover on Sunday where he couldn't stop being ill.

Point two. My grandmother died on Saturday night (afternoon Canada time). I guess I'm more in shock than anything else which makes no sense at all because she had been very ill for the past three months but she was a medical marvel having smoked for over 60 years and was cancer-free her entire life. She wasn't a typical granny either which is I think a bit awkward to explain because she was so stubborn and opinionated on absolutely not factual merit, which I know is a testament to the elderly however she was Danish and when explanations would transition in and out of Danish, it made her ramblings about my hair being in my eyes meaning that I'll be blind when I'm 40 (same for those wearing contact lenses) for example simply endearing. It was a long standing joke in my family that she would outlive us all, similar to that of let's say a Keith Richards.

Anyway the moral of the story is that I thought I would go home for a week but there is only going to be a visitation and then a memorial in September for her birthday when I'm home for a holiday. My mother is ok which is the most important thing. And really that's that.

There's more but I think I'll leave it at this. And that.

day off

I wouldn't pigeonhole myself to suggest that I am a control freak however having one solitary day off makes me panic just a bit. I'm mainly terrified that I haven't done something and it's going to come to light and I always have to bee three steps ahead.

But in much happier news, it was Chris' birthday yesterday and because he completely failed on mine, I had to have this amazing day for him (basically mind games to make him feel guilty for being such a shit, but not really because I honestly don't care, that much). So he was loaded with gifts, and I bought him this amazing card and his work mates and our friends came along for drinks last evening, and we booked today, have dinner reservations at a new incredible restaurant in Shoreditch but as I tiny jab to his day of splendor, I'm dragging him to Ikea to buy wicker baskets and other stuff. He's currently fast asleep, or could be awake but refusing to get out of bed because he knows the trip is imminent.

But please, I rarely pull the bitchy wife card but feel that I've earned it this time round. Now buck up and wake up please. I need tea and breakfast.

baby

Let's face it, I'm broody. It's time for me to have a baby (yes, but not really...). This week's obsession is bearing child and eventually rearing it. I'm so awful that I am stare and awe at parents morning and evening on the bus ride home, listening out for names, parenting methodology, colour of teeny tiny wellies on their feet, envious of their buggies and blankeys. I really hope these parents don't think I want to seal their children. Most of vilely misbehaved, jumping up and down on the seats and I sit on tender hooks half-expecting them to chip their baby teeth. Either the parent gets angry then ties them back down in their pram or just let's them carry on with ruckus. I try to resolve the situation in my mind, if it was my child. I know this is me passing severe judgment on a scenario I know absolutely nothing about, but this isn't logical, it's astutely hormonal. And I'm not even the worst girl I know.

What's brought this on the most is I haven't had a drink since New Year's which is both a crowning achievement and sad admission. But it's bringing a whole new clarity, such as I really love my husband. Barf. He's equally funny sober as he is when I've had a half a bottle of wine. Am I painting a portrait of being an eventual good parent? Please may I remind you that I'm 25 and was a child bride? No, Chris is a good egg and always has been. And I have never not loved him. Why do I feel like this is a loaded post? I'm not implying anything by this, it all curtails into my broodiness.

We were on a train to Birmingham this weekend to celebrate his grandfather's 90th birthday and this dreadful older couple sat in front of us and it was so clear they hated each other. I think it mainly had to do with wife's squawky voice. When we got off the train, we promised to never ever be like that. I don't squawk to the best of my knowledge but Chris promised to call me out on that shit. Why would you want to beat your husband into such severe submission?

I guess I'm both broody and terrified.

happy back to work

I love when you start something new and fresh and it seems amazing and really exciting! This could be my childish excitement, I remember summer between grade 7 & 8 and feeling desperate to get back to school because I wanted to graduate then go to high school. I think that's a bit how I feel now. Career being put on hold for over a year and now everything is back on track. And I make no qualms about this: I am going to be amazing. I feel as though I'm entitled to say that because my confidence has been knocked back 5-fold this past year. Plus it's one facet of my life that I can't be positive about, always have to be self-deprecating and sarcastic. But yes, in my naive excitement and joy to be back at work in my new role, I have been given great project that I'm actually looking forward to working on over the next few months.

Granted we have mapped out our holidays for the year, all built around the World Cup which England will presumably lose and I'll have to deal with Mr Grumps for weeks but I'm hoping to come back to Canada either May or September. Haven't been home since September 2008. It doesn't feel as though it's been that long considering it's currently -2 outside today in London however I haven't seen my dad since September and my mum since October 2008 for our wedding. Jew guilt washes over me constantly but my mother is my number one fan so I know she's fine with me being here and living out the life that I set out. My dad on the other hand is becoming more and more difficult with each conversation. I spoke with him on Christmas day and got off the telephone so perturbed. I think his transition into golden years is going to be grossly controversial.

In others new, my bank statement just came through the door and I'm not terrified to look at it.

happy new year

So I should probably delete the post a while back regaling my personal whinge self-doubt misdemeanors but I won't for nostalgia's sake. Plus I would never want to get to big for my boots. Basically I'm back on track for 2010 with proof that nothing does actually come easy, even if you're horoscope has said so for the past 14 months.

And with that, Chris is doing amazingly as well, with a promotion, a raise, two rounds of tequila shots at the Christmas party.

So when I received my news last Monday, I phoned Chris up and said I got the job and we both simultaneously said 2010.

One massive boo boo however was Christmas where I buggered up his gift so badly. Evidently headphones are tricky to find in Birmingham on 23rd December so tomorrow I'm venturing out to purchase the second half of his present. He's currently enjoying the first which is F1 for the Wii (clearly not my top choice).

And what did Christmas consist of this year in Birmingham? Cheese binge and drinking wine as if it was water. Our neighbour came and dropped off a bottle of red as a thank you for letting him use our wireless and honestly the sight of that bottle is making me feel nauseous. The past years running we were keen on Dolphin Olympics, the internet game but no we're shit so we started playing Bust a Move- and we're equally as rubbish at that now. But yes, that has been the past week. We got back to London tonight and I requested raw vegetables for supper. This is the first time I've felt hungry in the past 2-3 weeks. New years, different story I'm sure.

2010.

Snippets

I'm now under the strict advocation of job interviews including a two drink minimum. This will in future prevent me from floating out of my body, staring down at myself, listening to myself, thinking to myself to just stop talking. Loquacious yes but not such a formidable quality evidently. Ummm, we shall see.

Last night I had a dream that I only remembered once on the bus ride home today. I dreamt I was playing poker and my opponents were trying to figure out my tell only I had never had to bluff therefore did not have one. I was prompted by this because of my emotional tells, I'm clearly becoming worse and worse disguising these in public. Stoicism hasn't been my strong suit this 2009. I blame age.

My manager at work last night however dreamt about scissors. And today, when someone's scissors went missing from their desk, she opened her top drawer saying, 'oh I took those yesterday'. Realised that they weren't in her top drawer. Then realised it was all just a dream.

Work. Dreams. Scissors. Call me mildly pessimistic but that sounds about right.

hectic humbug

Cold winds travelled from Russia are now drowning this city in London. Ordinarily I would mildly disturbed by this because London has a nonexistent coping mechanism for snow removal and frankly it's intolerably cold outside. Also, I need tomorrow to be as stress free going into work as possible.

Yesterday was my 25th birthday- jovial. I managed to keep it on the DL at work quite well, team were very lovely as usual and we went out for a nice lunch, and then was office Christmas party that by previous standards set, was quite tame. No embarrassment, even after singing You're So Vain on karaoke which evidently was my best performance to date.

And with all these happenings in the diary, December has been insane. Christmas dinner and drinks with all of our friends last year which was wonderful. Sunday spent watching Christmas films- season always starts off with Home Alone, then Elf was on television etc. etc. I think this weekend we're going to watch Die Hard and Gremlins. Love Actually when it's on tv at Chris' parents.

Jam packed social schedule but nothing actually provoking to say. I'm tucked under a blanket enjoying the heat from the computer on my lap, looking through cookbooks, listening to songs as I'm still putting together my best of the past decade. Kind of don't want to limit it just to music; would love to do books, movies blahbidyblah.

Also just realised that I need to Christmas shop tomorrow and in the snow will just not do. Yarg.

100 2000

During last night's damp evening out, I was given a really good project by my friend Jonas. He wants me to create a list of the top 100 songs from the Noughties. Now of course this carries quite a bit of personal gravity because I think it's really tricky as there are different impacts one needs to assess before delivering (social, cultural and personal impacts). I think the most important thing is that the Noughties is our formative years where music became extremely important. And of course I truly believe that music is transcendental so it's difficult for me to not place a huge importance on personal choice.

And of course culturally the western world changed post 9/11. So that is going to affect my decision making as well. Essentially I need to flesh out a list of let's say 300 songs then narrow them down. And I'll definitely indicate which ones are on there for personal reasons and which ones are on there because they're just really good.

Ok this is really boring. But I do love a project. And it's gross to think that in just over a month it will be 2010. Yeah, don't like that.

bit more fun

So postmouse, we became shells of our former selves allowing our flat to become a den of filth. That is not like us. It had been three + until we finally did our massive big clean. That was Monday night.

The time change, even though it took place weeks ago now is killing me. It gets dark here at 4.00pm. By the time I get home at 6.00pm I feel like it should be 9pm and I can't be bothered to do anything else but watch the Wire, fall asleep 45 minutes into it and go to bed. So I took a long weekend. So far it's consisted of sleeping for 11 hours and reading countless blogs that I have missed over the past two weeks. Thanks friends.

A few weekends back now, Branson and I celebrated our one year anniversary with martinis and steak. It pains me sometimes that everyone else around us had these huge expectations of what we should do when we're really just exceptionally low key. On the plus as well, staying local means that we don't have to pay for taxis because I'm wearing extravagant shoes. Martinis at the bar down the road, then steak a bit closer to home. Chris' steak was the size of a newborn, that is not an exaggeration. 11oz of lies, that baby was at least 20. But nothing says love like ravaging flesh.

Tonight we're going to see Louis CK. I am very much looking forward to this as we've had tickets for over a month now. And we've watched his two HBO specials at least 6 times since.

fun at first but then it gets a bit sad

That seems to be the general gist of all facets of everything. Minus the blip last week where I wanted to sit on mr. grumps Branson until he agreed to be a nice boy again. He had a staycation and evidently didn't enjoy his own company. Force to be reckoned with considering we never really argue, I could have bitch slapped him last Friday. But I was mature and stuff and told him to start being nice. He was in a fine enough mood by Saturday, and he bought me flowers on Sunday which was all very lovely.

One unfun thing happened which was mouse murder. We've had the little blighter in our lives for quite a few weeks, and he only pops out if it's perfectly silent, or if I'm on the sofa, minding my own business and he feels like scaring the shit out of me. Finally it was an 'us or him' situation; breaking point. Whilst trying to watch the Wire, mousey came squirming out of his gap under the stove and darted behind our sofa (which up until that moment, we hadn't realised he was running behind there). Chris thought he had trapped him against the back wall of the flat using our sofa, side table and chair as blocades. I was essentially marooned on the sofa for fear of mousey shooting up my leg. Tricky bastard however shoved himself into a a crack between our baseboard and wall and took off (after about an hour of Chris, mop in hand fiddling around, basically I just wanted to watch the Wire). Then the little shit was seen zipping through our kitchen on the countertop which is clearly disgusting. Chris speeds over trapping him with bottles of olive oil and cereal boxes. And because this mousey has evading our sticky traps and poison baits, Chris thought it would be genius to have one escape route from this makeshift kitchen fortress and force him onto one, however this is the smartest mouse in all of London; mice have obviously evolved here quickly since the Industrial Revolution and can easily outwit two chumps such as us. So he figures out there's a nonstick strip on the trap and runs up that and behind the sofa again, except this time, this time we've blocked off the crack with newspaper and there's no escape for our bright young thing. Chris has now gone primal, wearing rubber gloves, running around, saying 'little shithead' over and over and over again. Then drops a sticky trap down along our back wall until finally, after I have now been sitting panicked on the sofa for over an hour hear the horrid squeals of success. Poor mousey finally stuck and got his poor little legs all twisted.

He kept squeaking until Chris put a tupperware container over him and he found solace in the dark. I'm now crying because it's terrible and heartbreaking and I leave mr grumps to do the dirty work whilst I literally go in the bedroom and hide under the covers. Now if you'd like to hear the rest of the story I can tell it but it's terribly inhumane and Chris and I have been emailing back and forth how disgusted we feel with ourselves and the guilt that's churning in our stomachs. But I must remind you that this was psychological warfare. This mouse hadn't eaten any poison (even with bits of chocolate dumped in it, which by the way, we found pieces of under our sofa), avoiding sticky traps that were set up by his favourite running points. And he managed to avoid Chris' trappings twice in one evening.

So that's not fun at all. But we're doing a massively flat blitz on Saturday which is of course, always fun.